We Are Soldiers (But We Are Human Too)
by rainingWolf
Summary: [Execute Order 66.] There is no longer the jungle, no longer the blue sky, no longer the vivid green that he had grown to like during their days long journey through the wild. There is no longer his troops, his brothers, beside him. There is only his General ahead as she takes a step beyond, her back still towards him, her lekku curling at the end as if pained. / Order 66 remix.
1. Bly & Aayla Secura: Part 1

**Please kindly** **note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: _Resist Order 66_. This has been written with her permission and blessing. I will be mirroring her story written in my own style.

\- This story will revolve around Order 66 and how the clones go about their own way to rebel against such a command.

* * *

Of Bly, his General, and the unspoken words between them.

* * *

The jungle is serene and the quiet is only broken when his troops follow behind their General, always vigilant. They are spread out, close enough to cover one another and far enough to not see the streaks of dirt marring their white white armor.

The sun is shining.

Bly is behind his General, slightly to her right and standing alert, ready, always vigilant because they are in a hostile environment that holds unknown secrets. The General walks ahead, her lekku swaying gently, until they don't.

She had stopped their journey and as his troops came closer together as a group, Bly has a moment of clarity that in another universe, in another life, he would have found the jungle beautiful.

Then, there is nothing as something echos in his mind, overtaking his senses.

_Execute Order 66._

There is no longer the jungle, no longer the blue sky, no longer the vivid green that he had grown to like during their days long journey through the wild. There is no longer his troops, his brothers, beside him. There is only his General ahead as she takes a step beyond, her back still towards him, her lekku curling at the end as if pained.

Her hands are at her side, weaponless.

His blaster suddenly feels heavy and there is a beat, two, where his brothers seem to think the same for they all look down at the weapon in their hand as if seeing them for the first time in a long time.

_Execute Order 66_.

He blinks and opens his mouth. Then he closes it because he is a good soldier and good soldiers follow orders. The others would understand even as something claws at his stomach and Bly swallows hard.

He thinks he said something. But it matters not because he knows that he pulls the trigger first.

The blast catches his General through the arm and there is a wild wild moment where she turns half way, her face full of mourning, of love, of sadness, and fear, that Bly's breath catches in his lungs and he can't breath-

_Execute Order 66._

His breath is pushed out when his brother next to him shoots as well, catching their General in the shoulder, a through and through; he never knew Crackshot was such a poor shot.

Their General, _his_ General, puts a hand on her wound and pulls back with wide wide eyes. Then, she is down as his brothers continue their fire. Bly loses count of how long they shoot. He doesn't want to know as his fingers automatically press the trigger again and again and the General's body jerks with every hit.

What he does know is that when he finally speaks, it is silence that greets him.

"Stop," he says when he's finally able to make sound. His voice comes out raw, as if disused, but his order is heard; his brothers obey immediately, each looking at their blaster or their hands, and Bly is certain that they are all thinking the same thing.

How could they have done this to their beloved General?

"Commander." Tyto steps up next to him and Bly has to suppress a violent urge to hit the other. "Is she- is she-?" His brother is shaking. "Is she-" he stutters again, a sob catching in his throat.

"Prep the General's fighter." Bly cuts off Tyto before the other can continue his broken words. "And someone get me Patch."

When nobody moves, he surges forward and down next to Secura, blaster forgotten, roaring, "Someone get Patch," because his General may be unmoving but he can see that all her wounds are not fatal and there is a chance, a small small chance, a hope, a small small hope, that maybe, just maybe-

He finds a pulse.

His General lives.

He isn't aware of Patch arriving until the other pries his hands away from their General. "Commander, I have to- Please let go- I have to take care of her wounds-"

He's acutely aware of other hands, shaking hands, warm hands, that pull him back from his General who lays amongst the green.

"What have we done," Tyto whispers as Crackshot throws his blaster clear across the mass of trees.

"We followed orders," is Bly's immediate response and it doesn't register with him what he said until he looks up to see the pained looks mirrored in his brothers' faces.

Yes. They followed orders because they were good soldiers, but when Patch finally sits back after eons, Bly wonders at what the cost is.

"I've done what I can," he murmurs. "But it's bad."

Bly's eyes are immediately drawn to the General's still form even as another part of him tells him to look away from the damage he had caused just moments earlier. There is a beat, two, where nobody seems to breathe.

Even the jungle is quiet.

"She can't stay here." Bly doesn't have to see to feel his men's agreement as he steps up to cradle the General's body. "She has to leave."

The General is still, so very very still, but her breathing is a distant sea, touching shore and retreating, touching shore and retreating, an old pump that keeps going; and it is this movement that propels Bly faster towards her prepped fighter; someone must have heard his orders before as the engine hummed in the silence.

His men follow behind, lost, until they halt at the look he has on his face. It is stone cold, flat, and he can see it reflect off his brothers' helmets. The message is clear. The men cannot follow him. So they pretend to clean their weapons, pretend to scout the edge of the clearing, and pretend not to see the many hands trembling or the many eyes tearing. They all pretend not to see Bly lay their General down in her seat with a tenderness that makes all their hearts ache.

The General never stirs.

Bly straps her down, double checking, then triple checking she is secure before he turns to the astromech in the backseat. "We're counting on you."

The droid beeps in affirmation, head spinning twice before it settles back front.

"Please. Keep her safe," he breathes, praying to any and all deities out there that they can hear his wants and desires. "Please."

Bly climbs down from the star fighter. The engine hums. Then he feels air behind his back as it takes off into the sky above. He doesn't look back at the speck in the distance that carries his heart.

"She's gone," he says to his brothers when he steps back within the fold.

"It's better this way," he says to Crackshot whose weapon is a mangled mess several clicks away.

"She will be safe," he says to Tyto, who looks back with red red eyes.

"She lives," he says to Patch whose frown is now a permanent marker on his face.

"May the Force be with you," he says to his General as he finally looks up to green and blue.

His General is out of reach.

* * *

Later, he marks in his report: _General Aayla Secura. Dead._

* * *

A/N:

\- I'm a huge Star Wars fan and this is my first time writing for this fandom. Unsure if I did this expansive universe the beauty and justice it deserves but I sure damn tried. :)

\- Honestly, I started and stopped so many times during this remix. I really wanted to do the original justice but I feel like in the end, what I wrote is a let down. There are some good elements here that I'm working with but perhaps, in greater context, I could have written this better. Regardless, I am in the mindset right now to essentially: Publish or perish.

\- Please excuse my rambling. It is late. Thank you for bearing with me and thank you for reading.

\- Reviews are very much appreciated. Especially if you have constructive criticism.


	2. Bly & Aayla Secura: Part 2

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: _Resist Order 66_. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- A continuation of Chapter 1 which revolves around Aayla Secura's reaction to Order 66.

* * *

Of Aayla, the stars, and the strength they have.

* * *

She surfaces from the deep with a gasp that dies before it forms. The lights from above are harsh and white; they blind her and she cannot see but she needs not to when she can feel aching of her wounds.

She licks her lips, tastes iron, and wonders how she can ever be whole again when the Force is screaming with loss and betrayal. She feels wetness on her skin and marvels how she can even be crying when her soul is shattered into a million pieces ever since she was in the jungle and she felt pain that carved into her very heart.

The medical droid's movement pulls her out of deep again as it places cold machine hands on her. "Ah. You are awake." It pauses as if waiting for a response before continuing. "You arrived eight point three hours ago with severe blaster wounds. However, they were not life threatening as someone had taken the appropriate medical process to preserve your injuries."

The droid rattles on but Secura no longer hears as she spirals inwards. So. She is in a medical facility. How. How could this have happened. _Why_ did this happen. But perhaps she is not asking the right questions as the stars wink outside her window. After all, it was her own men who had painted her with holes that were now merely fading white, thanks to the bacta treatment.

She's missing something and she's certain that her heart isn't one of the answers to her question.

"Excuse me," the medical droid cuts in, pulling her out of the deep once again. "The astromech you arrived with wishes to speak with you. He is… quite persistent." If she didn't know any better, she would have been surprised, even laughed, at the almost human dour coming out of the droid. Instead, everything in her vision fades as Arnie rolls up to her bedside, she sits up, and something clicks.

And she realizes that she knows the question to ask now. It is no longer How. It is no longer Why. But a Who.

Who could have gotten her men to do this?

Her Commander appears before her. He is standing straight, so straight that it looked like a stray wind would blow him over. His helmet is on and not for the first time, Secura wishes that they are not who they are so that she can see beneath the white white armor.

"General," the recording states and it is curt, so like and unlike the Commander who spoke wonders with his expression but not with words. "I'm sorry. We tried."

Such simple words but she can hear the faint tremor in his voice; she sees his head bob slightly, an indication of him swallowing hard, and she has to blink away her tears because her Commander is in pieces and she can do nothing but watch from eons away.

"We tried to stop," he explains and she believes him because there was a wild wild moment before pain hit her where she had looked back at him, at her men, and they all paused before her, as if they were fighting something that was beyond them.

Perhaps it was. After all, they had shot her.

"It was Order 66 and-," Bly cuts off, helmet tipping down. His shoulders are shaking. All Secura has to do is tilt her head in question for him to pick up where he left off, his voice monotone. "In the event of Jedi officers acting against the interests of the Republic, and after receiving specific orders verified as coming directly from the Supreme Commander, GAR commanders will remove those officers by legal force, and command of the GAR will revert to the Supreme Commander until a new command structure is established."

He recites from rote and Secura's lekku curls. The Supreme Commander. The _Chancellor_. And everything starts falling into place as the Force continues to scream.

"We had to, General. Good soldiers follow orders." There is a beat, two, where the Bly in the holo message stares outwards before finally removing his helmet, and Secura holds her breath, trying to memorize his every feature.

His face is the same as she last saw them but something is different, something has changed since then and she can see it in the way new lines have been carved; he looks defeated.

"I hope this message finds you safe. I instructed Arnie to play this once you wake up." He pauses once more, an unknown expression crawling on his face that Secura couldn't read. She thinks it's heartbreak. "I… I don't think I'll be seeing you again in this lifetime, General. I'll never forgive myself if-" He clears his throat. "_We_ can never forgive ourselves if you died. So please." He blinks those large doe eyes that pull her closer to the holo image until she is almost nose to nose to it. "Please, stay safe."

"It's been an honor," he states and Secura can tell he means it as he held his head high. "May the Force be with you."

The hologram flickers out and suddenly, abruptly, Secura is aware of the horrible silence that prevails. Even the Force is quiet.

What can she do now when everything she holds dear is scattered across the galaxy?

She closes her eyes and breathes, reaching into the Force. Horrible silence greets her but she hears something, a keening, and she knows right there and then that she is not alone. Others live. A few, a mere few, but they are alive, as surely as she is now as the Force pulsates around her. She feels more than sees Arnie moving closer to her and she reaches out blindly to him; he is cool to the touch and Secura finds herself thinking of white white armor cold as snow that bound hot blooded men to their duty.

Something rears up its head in her stomach and she doesn't fight to suppress the anger simmering barely beneath her skin. Her men are broken. Her Commander is lost. She is hurt.

But they are alive and they will find a way back to each other just as surely as suns will rise and fall. For her, her men had fought off something cruel and sinister. She opens her eyes and stretches; the white marks that were wounds just mere moments ago before she fell unconscious and woken from the deep stretches as well. Her eyes narrow at the winking stars above and the black swirls of the galaxy.

She will not betray that loyalty they had for her with abandonment.

The 327th is hers and she's going to make sure it stays that way.

* * *

On another planet far far away, Bly thinks he hears his General's declaration and smiles.

* * *

A/N:

\- I really hope I did Aayla Secura and her men justice. I really like Aayla's character and when she perished in canon, I was quite sad. To think she died in a place so teeming with life. :(

\- Next chapter will move on from Aayla and Bly. Perhaps we'll come back to them if **angelrider13** ever goes back to it in the original story.

\- Reviews are much appreciated. Please, let me know how you feel about it!


	3. Neyo & Stass Allie

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: _Resist Order 66_. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- Moving away from Aayla Secura and Bly. This chapter is about Strauss Allie and Neyo.

* * *

Of Neyo, his General, and the beauty in sand.

* * *

In another life, Neyo thinks he would have found the rolling hills and crystal sands of Saleucami beautiful. But at this moment when the fine grains seep between the cracks of his armor and grind against his speeder, he thinks maybe the scenery isn't really that wonderful after all.

Glen is silent besides him, several clicks away on his own speeder, and Neyo appreciates the quiet solitude he provides as in the distance, far ahead, their General flows through the sand like a waterfall. She looks so natural among the brown of the ground and the blue of the sky, her headdress bellowing behind her so perfectly that he almost doesn't hear the soft click of his comms turning on.

Almost.

But he does hear it and he sees Glen's speeder waver a bit out of the corner of his eye. Everything fades except for his General's speeder ahead as he hears a command he doesn't even know he would in this lifetime. Or the next.

_Execute Order 66._

He thinks he signals Glen for in one beat and the next, they are moving in unison, pulling further back from their General's flowing journey ahead. He can only watch in horror as his own hands betray him and tighten on the handle of the laser gun cannon on his speeder. General Allie never looks back at the two of them aiming at her small small back.

_Execute Order 66._

This cannot be happening as Glen mirrors his movement. Glen who is younger than him by two years. Glen who has only been with them for mere months. Glen who was laughing with his General Allie only the night before. Glen whose face Neyo cannot see because of the white white helmet that shelters and binds them both. But surely, surely, Glen must be having the same terrifying experience as Neyo for he turns to him and even from the distance between them, Neyo can see his eyes. They are pleading for release.

_Execute Order 66._

And then Neyo no longer sees anything, no longer knows anything as he jerks his controls hard to one side and everything turns upside down, his speeder slamming straight into Glen's. There is air, and there is sand, biting into his skin, etching themselves into patterns unknown. He feels more than hears their General's alarm and wishes he feels nothing as an ache laces through his body, making flames in his vision. He blinks and he realizes that the flames are not his imagination but very real as his speeder burns and crumbles into the sand.

His helmet is gone. The sun is shining. And Neyo turns his head to find his brother lying spread-eagled some distance away. Glen's left arm is twisted unnaturally, and his forehead is splattered with blood. But even from this angle, Neyo can still see his brother's chest steadily going up and down; the Commander doesn't even know he stopped breathing until he releases air. Glen may be down and out but he's alive and Neyo thanks any and all deities for this small small blessing.

"Neyo! Glen!" Sand blows over his face as General Allie's speeder skitters to a stop next to them and she hops off, still graceful despite the urgency of her action. "What happened?"

Warm hands, warmer than the sun beating down on them all, touches his face and his aching slowly ceases; she is healing him despite not knowing anything, despite not knowing that she is this close to dying, and this is the moment that makes Neyo certain that he made the right choice.

"General," he calls, taking her hand in his own, but she is no longer seeing him and Glenn and the burning chaos behind them. She is seeing something beyond, her face a mix of heartbreak and horror. Her hands fall slack in his and his General looks like she's shattering into a million thousand pieces just like the sand beneath their feet.

"General," he calls again because he _knows_ she knows what's happening now when she seems to come back to herself, her familiar purple eyes shining with tears. "You have to leave."

Allie does not move though she removes her hands from his; he misses the warmth, the imprint of it that had been burning him from the inside out. "Please," he repeats, tasting ash and iron and so much sand. "You have to leave."

She blinks and he knows she's searching through the thousand and one questions she has to find the most important one to ask. She settles for, "How?"

"Order 66," he answers, words spilling out hot and fast. "The Jedi are now traitors. We must eliminate any threats. We-" He cuts off, trying not to say anything further that could mar his General's face in more sad lines. He's not sure if he succeeds as Allie takes a shaky breath in.

"But we are loyal to the Republic," she whispers.

"It doesn't matter now. The Order is given. We must act." Even now, there is a dull aching in his head that has nothing to do with him crashing into Glenn. He thinks she understand what he's saying but she still doesn't move. Her lightsaber hangs at her side.

"Who-"

"The Supreme Commander," he bites out, heart hammering against his armor so loudly that he's certain his General can hear it as well.

"The _Chancellor_?"

His General is openly weeping now, and it takes everything in him to say, "Please. Leave. Don't let us find you. Don't let us kill you."

"Oh Neyo," she says, voice raw as if she has screamed for a thousand years and will continue to scream until her sorrows are over. He wonders how it must feel to be so connected and utterly lost; he tries not to think about it as Glenn stirs in the background. "What have we done to you?"

"Doesn't matter," he hisses. "You have to-"

"It matters!," Allie cries, her voice sounding like thunder in the stillness around them. "You matter! You all do!"

Neyo cracks a smile at this because yes, he knows this but knowing and hearing it said out loud are two different beasts. Glenn groans and it seems to ground Allie back to the present as she stands up.

"I never wanted anyone to be hurt because of me."

"We know," he responds. Because he does. His General hates death, hates getting hurt, hates others getting hurt for her even more. That's why his men try to avoid it. But war is brutal and ruthless and cares little for the wants and needs of those trapped within it.

"It's been an honor, Commander," she says and he pretends not see her delicate tremors. He feels her headdress brush against his face as she bows down low to ghost a kiss on his forehead. Then she is racing across the dunes, speeder never touching the sand as it glides, dips down low beneath the burning sun, and disappears into the horizon.

"May the Force be with you," he whispers into the wind, words so foreign yet so familiar as Glenn finally surfaces from the deep. The younger breathes raggedly, head slowly turning until he's sure there is nothing but him and the Commander and the mangled fire scraps behind them.

"She's safe?," Glenn asks and it's so hopeful that Neyo's smile grows bigger.

"Yeah, brother. She's safe."

Then there are no words as they both look up at the blue blue sky, not a regret or care in the entire universe.

* * *

Sometime later when they are both found safe and appropriately reprimanded, they return to the rest of the 91st who welcome them with open arms because their General is safe and sound among the stars above.

* * *

A/N:

\- In the original story, **angelrider13** has Neyo and Glenn dying in the sand. I couldn't bring myself to do something like that when there is already so much death in the universe. I wanted there to be hope. An acknowledgement that this terrible tragedy is happening but there is also some good. Some live. This is probably one of my favorite chapters to remix and write.

\- Hope you enjoy and please feel free to drop a kind review to let me know what you think!

\- Thank you all for reading! :)


	4. Jag & Plo Koon

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: _Resist Order 66_. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- We're leaving Strauss Allie, Neyo, and Glenn in the sand to rest. Now, we must fly high to feel the wind and see Plo Koon, Jag, and the Pack.

* * *

Of Jag, Plo Koon, and the clearing of the fog.

* * *

Jag thinks he would find Cato Neimoidia beautiful if he can actually see the acidic ocean below, the massive rock arches on his left, and the tall green trees on his right. But right now, he thinks the fog suits him best. After all, fog hides all and he thinks it's best that the others flying so close yet so far do not see the emotions on his face.

The fighter hums beneath him and he relishes the feeling of flying and being free when he should have been dead and blown to ashes for what he did on Katraasii. He had accepted his fate then. But apparently, fate had different ideas when General Plo Koon had approached him, held out a hand, and bade him to stand up to a new master.

A kinder one.

And he had honored that vow with blood and tears. The 104th had accepted him into the fold and he became part of the Pack in one blink and the next. He has brothers now who will follow him to victory or death. He has a General now who will listen and acknowledge him through thick and thin.

He has a new ARC-170 fighter and everything feels like a dream as the entire squadron slices through the fog like Plo Koon had sliced through battle droids in combat many fights ago.

And surely, surely, this is a dream because only in his dreams does he hear this order, echoing into his very soul.

_Execute Order 66._

He knows he responds because the holo that had said those 3 terrible words vanishes, but what he actually says is lost to him; his mind is becoming as muddy as the fog outside his cockpit and this surely must be a dream as dead silence fills his comms.

No one protests against the injustice being wrought upon them but perhaps, they can't as Jag's hand moves with a mind of its own towards the laser cannon.

_Execute Order 66._

It hurts. Something is pounding in his head, but it lessens as his finger curls around the handle of the laser and suddenly, abruptly, Jag is no longer in the fighter. He's among the twisting castle grounds and the white white walls that are now splattered with the blood of his brothers. His brothers who had followed his orders. His brothers who are now dead because he had gotten them killed over something disgustingly trivial like Pride.

He flinches and he's back in the cockpit, his mind still as foggy but slowly, so very slowly, starting to clear because he will never betray the kindness Plo Koon had bestowed upon him with something as disgustingly horrendous like Betrayal.

_Execute Order 66._

His body is still moving, fingers pulling the trigger, when he finds himself ripping his controls forward so his fighter is now between his brothers and his General. His shot goes wide, illuminating the scenery around them briefly before it fades back into grey. The pounding is worse now but he'll do anything, suffer through everything if it means he won't murder his General. If it means his brothers won't murder the only good thing they've ever had in this blood soaked galaxy they were born into.

His comm flares to life and for a wild wild moment, he thinks it's the hooded figure come back to finish what it had started. Instead, he sees nothing but his General's concerned face.

"You've broken formation," Plo Koon states more than asks. "Was there a misfire?" There is an unspoken question of the General asking if Jag is fine, but Jag cannot answer when his throat is closing in on itself.

"Captain?"

Worry laces his General's voice and Jag can only blink in response, swallowing hard, because his General's kindness is going to get him killed.

"General," he grounds out as the pounding in his head beat some far-off melody that resembles troops marching with heavy heavy boots. "You need to leave."

"Why-"

"Wasn't a misfire," Jag gasps out. "Tried to kill you."

Long long silence greets Jag and he thinks, maybe it is a dream, maybe he's actually shot his General, and this is some kind of hallucination he's created to prevent himself from acknowledging what he's done. But then Plo Koon moves for the first time since he appeared before Jag; his General tilts his head to the side as other voices start crackling on the comms.

"Sir, you have to leave," Comet chokes out. "Order 66…"

Then there are no words for their General's face seem to cave in on itself as he stares at something in the distance. Plo Koon takes a shuddering breath in and out, in and out, before he seems to refocus back to the present.

"Impossible…," he murmurs to himself, but Jag can hear it as clear as he can hear the fighter's engine humming beneath his feet. He's sure he's not the only one who hears it as Boost speaks up.

"Sir, please, you have to leave. Don't make us- we have to eliminate-" Boost cuts off, not willing to finish his sentence.

Plo Koon is shaking in his seat but they all pretend not to see it.

Wolffe snarls then, voice tighter than anything any of them has ever heard before. "We can't control it. You must leave. If Jag moves away between you and us, we're going to fire." There is anger in the Commander's voice and Jag know without a doubt that Wolffe is using all his willpower to still his hands and speak right now.

"Where?" His General finally whispers and the whole question is heard without it ever being said. _Where is this order coming from?_

"The Supreme Commander," Sinker answers quietly and Jag can physically feel something in his stomach rise up. Plo Koon puts a hand to his heart and the sight of it breaks everyone of their own hearts; their General is being pulled apart and there is nothing any of them can do but watch.

"Sir," Jag repeats, ignoring the aching in his head and heart, because he loves his General and he will not let him die on this foggy planet where the ocean will eat away his bones. "Leave."

"Please," he pleads when the General stays quiet for a moment too long.

There is a beat, two, where it seems like the General will not listen and will stand his ground among the massive rock arches and tall tall trees.

"You deserve better," Plo Koon says at last in a mournful tone.

W0lffe speaks for them all when he replies, voice bereft of all things good, "We already have the best."

"May the Force be with you," their General recites after a long long beat and several broken voices echo back, "And with you."

Then Plo Koon is gone, his ship breaking formation and slipping silently into the fog. He disappears within seconds.

* * *

That night, all military holdings on Cato Neimoidia- Separatist and Republic alike, all the Empire's now- burn.

* * *

A/N:

\- As I try to write as canon-complicit as possible, I write this from Jag's POV rather than Wolffe. Wolffe is close to Plo Koon but in canon, Jag is ultimately the one who shot the General down when Order 66 was given. For those unfamiliar with him, Jag was a Commander at the time of the First Battle of Geonosis. However, he was demoted after his failure at the Battle of Katrassi which is referenced in the story. He joined the 104th Battalion when Plo Koon offered him a spot in the Pack.

\- Hope you enjoy!

\- Reviews are very much appreciated! :)


	5. Doom & General Tiplee: Part 1

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- We're going from highs to lows as we explore the relationship between General Tiplee and her Commander.

* * *

Of Doom, his two Generals, and the beginning of the End.

* * *

This is supposed to be easy. It's the first time in a long time his General sees action after the day she almost fell- the day she was run through by a lightsaber so that whenever she stretches, she gives a small small grimace of pain that nobody is supposed to see. But he does. And he's sure his brothers do as well. They all say nothing because they are just men before the power of the Force that can make them taste ash in their mouths as readily as stars die.

They are on some small Separatist planet, just the two of them; their plan is to scout and fall back at any sign of danger.

But now, as his General stalks ahead, anger and fury in every step she takes, Doom thinks that maybe this isn't so easy after all as his comms click on and he hears those dreaded dreaded words that had caused the beginning of the Fall.

_Execute Order 66._

Suddenly, abruptly, Doom is longer on this forsaken planet that has more shadows than light. He is back in that place where it all started when General Tiplar fell without a single sound. He had been fighting with his brothers, moving in unison without a single wasted breath. Then everything had slowed down, maybe it had even stopped, when General Tiplar had graced them with a rare rare smile, cocked her head at someone coming up behind her, and dropped with the span of seconds. They were all vaguely aware of their sister General's cry, but it sounded too far off to be anything real when as one, the men had looked from their General's body on the ground, to the tip of a blaster, to settle on Tup's blank blank face.

"Good soldiers follow orders," was his response to his fellow brothers.

It had been a miracle Tup even made it to the Jedi's safe hands to be interrogated.

_Execute Order 66._

Those three words brings Doom back to the present and he finds himself silently padding after General Tiplee, the way they are supposed to because they are on the lookout for danger and-

She has no idea that the danger is him as he points his blaster at her back.

He wonders if this is what Tup had felt that day so very very long ago; ice is flowing where blood should be and it is seeping into his very soul.

He is cold as something inside him breaks and cries and screams because he must kill the General, the Jedi, and all things holy and good in this galaxy.

_Execute Order 66._

General Tiplee is still marching forward, one with the shadows as she peers over the edge of the rocks as if they will reveal secrets unknown. There is a beat, two, where Doom stays his hand and the General's tendrils flicker as if knowing something is amiss.

In the end, it matters not if the General notices him. It matters not if Doom doesn't want to shoot her. It matters not that he had promised to cherish the woman before him until the end of times. And it surely matters not that he knows how much this war is costing them both and that come what may, he would rather die than to hurt her.

What does matter is that he pulls the trigger and the shot sails straight through the left shoulder blade, inches from her spine.

Tiplee whirls, lightsaber cutting an arc in the air despite the wound dealt to her. In the blade's light that illuminates them both, she freezes. Her blue blue eyes that are not unlike her lightsaber widen in shock and confusion. It's in this moment that Doom appreciates the horrifying beauty of the moment before he feels air. She had sliced his blaster in half with a grim determined face.

A hand is on her chest and even from this distance, Doom can see dark dark liquid seeping through her fingers. Something revolts in his stomach but there is no time to even consider what that feeling is, no time to consider _anything_ when his General lunges forward, lightsaber in a wide sweep that is meant to take out his legs. His body is not his own as he leaps back, one hand pulling out his blaster pistol, the other steadying himself against the rocks. He has a second to breath before he's dodging another swipe that shatters the terrain. The rocks explode around him, making him drop his weapon.

With ice swelling in his body and nothing else on his person, Doom finds himself taking three big steps forward. His body slams into his General's and he can hear her gasp before they are both tumbling over an edge and down an incline. They hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the air out of their lungs.

Her lightsaber flies several clicks away. His General doesn't even have a chance to reach for it before he is straddling her, his hands on her neck. He's squeezes and it's as if he's watching this surreal scene from far far away- him on top bearing down on his General trapped below who is clawing and fighting for air. His General who is losing this battle for her movements are slowing, her eyes glassy and unfocused.

She spits at him and suddenly, he realizes he is no longer wearing his helmet. It seemed to have disappeared and he can no longer recall if he had even been wearing it in the first place. The spittle lands on his naked cheek and it's a disgusting gop laced with desperation and fear- but it is warm and bloody, seeming to flood his veins to combat the ice that had carved its way to his heart.

Doom isn't aware he had loosened his grip until his General shoves. He flies, his back slamming hard against the rocks. Something in him snaps and he knows it's something physical when pain laces his body. In the distance, Tiplee hacks and coughs away, breathing in much needed air, before she stands up.

A familiar hiss and heat against his cheek has Doom opening his eyes to so much blue- the blue of his General's weapon, the blue of his General's eyes, and the blue of his General's blood that is smeared on her clothes. Her left arm is cradled close to her body.

"Commander," Tiplee grounds out through gritted teeth. Her tendrils seem to flare up which reminds Doom of some vague human mythology of time long past. A story about a woman so beautiful and a woman so terrifying that she turned all those who looked at her to stone. "Explain yourself."

The words crawl out faster than he can stop them. "Good soldiers follow orders."

And if he had said it before Tup had shot their beloved Tiplar, she would have flinched at his words. But something has changed since that day so Tiplee does not recoil like Doom had thought she would at those four words that had dripped from another clone's lips not so long ago. The lightsaber does not waver from its spot near his neck.

His General's eyes narrow even as her breath hitches in reply. "You-" She cuts off as everything slides into place regarding mysteries on Ringo Vinda that had never been solved and the words of a brother that had never been explained. Silence prevails for a long long beat where Doom does nothing but gulp in air like he isn't getting enough. Dimly, he realizes that perhaps he really isn't getting enough air because one of his lungs is dying on him.

"What is going on," Tiplee whispers to no one and everyone as her lightsaber flickers off. Blood is still streaming like water down her tunic but it's a trickle compared to the waterfall it was before. Doom tears his eyes away from the blue and settles on the rocks beyond.

"Order 66," he answers. "A contingency plan for the death of the Jedi."

"The death of the Jedi," she repeats and suddenly, she is kneeling in front of him, keening and crying and sounding like she is dying.

Maybe she is as her head snaps up at him; Doom knows she doesn't see him as she looks at something beyond, her face a kaleidoscope of equal parts horror, pain, and wonder.

It is indeed the death of the Jedi as his General breaks down in front of him and there is nothing Doom can do but watch with a heavy heart.

* * *

Somewhere over the two of them, Tiplar sighs at the sight of her two darling people, her comforting hands going through both their shoulders.

* * *

A/N:

\- This will be a part 1 of 2 with the next chapter from Tiplee's POV. I really enjoyed writing this as I honestly don't know much about these characters beyond the Star Wars: The Clone Wars TV show so I actually had to do some research. It makes me realize that I wanted to see more other worldly creatures as Jedi and how that can change how those characters perceive the universe.

\- Hope you enjoy!

\- Please kindly leave a review! :)


	6. Doom & General Tiplee: Part 2

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- Part 2

* * *

Of Tiplee, her Commander, and the sister that binds them both.

* * *

This is supposed to be easy. It's the first time in a long time that she's back on the field rather than on the sideline where she had been left to wonder at what it was like to reach for the stars again. But then again, nothing ever came easy since Tiplar died soundlessly.

Tiplee had resolved to die loud and proud after that because if there is one thing she can no longer stand, it is silence.

The Force is raging and screaming- a million thousand voices suddenly crying out in terror before suddenly going quiet- and Tiplee finds that this utter emptiness is more horrifying than anything she's felt in her entire life.

That's saying something when she's been stabbed through the chest, the fading white mark a symbol of her failure once again. The same place on her chest is hurting right now and it anchors her back to the surface, the past flashing before her on her way out of the deep.

The past, which is too eerily close to the present, because this is suppose to be _easy_, but nothing is so simple when she had peered over the rocks for danger. She had heard a small pebble skitter its way across the terrain and felt something behind her; then, pain exploded on her back and she had turned, blade out before she even registered the weight of the weapon in her hand. She had turned and she had wished she hadn't when she came face to face to her Commander, blaster raised.

Instinct had her cutting Doom's weapon in half and going for his legs next before she could stop herself. There was a moment during their skirmish, when she had slammed the lightsaber into the offending rocks that Doom had fallen back on, that she thinks this is absurd. Why are they even fighting? Why is this even _happening_?

Then, there had been nothing to think as Doom lanches forward and they were a mess of limbs as they went tumbling over the ravine and down an incline. She hit armor, rock, then ground. The impact of it all knocked the air out of Tiplee. By the time she had been aware of anything, Doom had turned on her, his hands around her throat.

Dimly, she had thought that if the questions and doubts she's had on Ringo Vinda could not be answered in this life, perhaps they will be answered in the next as Doom presses down to cut off all her air.

His helmet had flown off in their scuffle. His face had been blank and stone still. His movements were mechanical as they continued the pressure on her throat, even as she had fought and pushed and clawed. He seemed to not even notice her erratic fight to live until she had spat at him in some desperate act that didn't really amount to anything but.. But…

Doom's eyes were suddenly no longer unreadable and the pressure on her throat had ceased. She took no chances and shoved. The Commander had flown and cracked against the rock surface, but she couldn't really register it when she's too busy trying to suck in as much air as she could.

It had been far too easy. She didn't even need to call for her lightsaber to jump into her hands as if the weapon had been longing for someone to hold it. In one beat and the next, she had the blade out to Doom's neck because how dare he do this and betray the trust she had for him.

They had exchanged words, but she no longer remembers them because the Force had _screamed_. Tiplee finally surfaces from the deep to find herself doubled over in front of her unmoving Commander. She feels numb and wonders if this silence is what she has to live with her now; the Force is a void and she doesn't dare to reach back into it.

"-ral. Sir."

She blinks, uncomprehending.

"General," Doom calls again and this time, there is something in his voice that makes her finally look at him anew.

"Please. You need to leave. Take the fighter and go!"

"What-" she cuts off, aware of how her voice sounds raw and broken as if she's been screaming. Maybe she has. "You will have me leave you?"

"Yes," Doom coughs, still unmoving, and Tiplee vaguely wonders if he's just too damaged. "Please. You _have_ to. Order 66- We have to kill- the Jedi-" He stops to cough again and this time, she can see blood.

The same blood that had been spilt the day her sister had dropped wordlessly from another clone's betrayal. But there is something else going on because Doom is clearly fighting for control in his own body, his lips curling into a sour note with a grimace that isn't entirely pain.

"No," she states even as her wounds ache. "Absolutely not."

"_Please_," Doom begs. His fingers twitch and Tiplee is glad that he no longer has any more weapons to brandish at her. "Sir-"

She towers over him as she stands up, ignoring the way her legs are shaking. "I'm getting answers, Commander," she announces. "One way or another."

Doom sighs and it is a quiet thing that nonetheless seems to echo and bounce off the rocks around them. "I don't want to have to kill you," he says more to the ground than to her.

"You won't," she replies, clipping her lightsaber back to her side, because she's starting to understand what is happening. There had been a plan, a cruel attempt to destroy the Jedi and the Force and all things good in this galaxy. But it had failed because of clones like Doom who is tearing themselves to pieces by disobeying the order. "Besides, you can't move."

A grim smile ghosted on her Commander's face before it drops. "It doesn't matter. You're better off kill-"

"I won't do that," Tiplee says with more force than needed. "I need you." What she doesn't say is that she cares far too much for someone who's supposed to be unattached and unemotional to all because that's what the code states but now… but now…

The Jedi are dead. Order is gone. And someone will pay for ripping out everything she has ever known.

"We're leaving." She's already reaching towards Doom before he can stop her.

"Please, just let me be," he croaks out even as she pulls him up and over a shoulder, the both of them stumbling back up the path to their fighter.

"Never," she answers back, sweat dotting her forehead that has nothing to do with the Commander's extra weight on her bad arm. "Tiplar wouldn't want me to leave you behind."

That one sentence seems to shut Doom down for she feels him shudder against her. She no longer knows if he's shaking or if she is and she thinks it's best to not dwell on it. What she had said was true. Tiplar would never forgive her in this life or the next if she had left her Commander here amongst the ashes of both their hearts. Instead, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other as their Starfighter comes into view.

Doom makes a noise that sounds more like a whine than anything else before he spits more blood onto the floor. It splatters on both their shoes and not for the first time, Tiplee wishes she has the patience to be a healer. She lifts him onto a table, double checking, then triple checking he is strapped in tight; he had passed out somewhere between the last few clicks towards the fighter and she cannot blame him when his face is too tired and exhausted to be that of someone of only three years. The medical droid flicks on with a wave of her hand and it immediately goes to work, hovering over her Commander.

Satisfied, she stumbles over to the pilot seat and finds herself collapsing into it. She wonders if this is what stars must feel like when she blinks to consciousness after a few beats of darkness. Her hands are sticky as she forces them onto the controls. The fighter's engine hums to life and starts their ascent; they're flying, and she feels like she's floating as well as this forsaken rocky planet disappears from her view.

She hurts. She's bleeding and crying and longing for the embrace of a sister long gone. Doom is broken. The Jedi are dead. The Force is silent. What can she do now as the Starfighter takes its long journey to avoid the fleet overhead. Tiplee leans back in her seat as she relinquishes control because right now, everything aches, and she wants rest because her Commander is lying and dying several paces behind. She prays that someone can hear her oath of blood and bone, of her whisper to _please save him_, and of her cries for those who have disappeared into the dark.

She reaches into the Force and she senses several movements- and Tiplee smiles even as she mourns because there are some still alive and safe and she will find them no matter what, Commander in tow. This, she vows.

She feels a hand on her brow and closes her eyes.

_Rest, sister._

* * *

Next to her, Tiplar brushes her sister's tendrils from her face before kissing her forehead; in her sleep, Tiplee dreams of green soothing light and warm arms around her.

* * *

A/N:

\- At first, I didn't like this chapter but as I kept writing and editing it, this actually grew on me.

\- Hope you enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated! :)


	7. Depa Billaba, Caleb Dunne, Grey: Part 1

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- Part 1 of 3

* * *

Of Depa, love, and the will to sacrifice.

* * *

Kaller is breathtakingly beautiful, luxurious, and vibrant. No amount of war can tarnish the tall tall trees, the green gracious grass, and the bubbling babbling brooks that blanket the planet's surface. Depa wishes she can say the same for her Padawan and her men as they trooped behind her in silence. War is not kind and takes and takes until there is nothing left.

And that's why she stops them in the middle of the clearing with the blue brilliant sky above as their only witness. They need a break, she tells them, and she watches as her silent companions transform into kinder, better beings. She knows this is just a small small respite from their fight with the Separatists but this will have to do for now as Styles reaches out and ruffles her Padawan's hair in a teasing manner.

Caleb bats the clone's hands away, eager smile ready on his lips, and Depa brightens because there is still hope that not all those who fight are lost in darkness. There can still be moments of no fighting and no battlefields with the dead and dying. There can still be moments of quiet. Of happiness. Moments that bring laughter and delight that have become far far too rare.

As chuckles lilt off several clones, Depa can only savor this precious moment of peace. She reaches into the Force and it comforts her. She tries not to think that one day, Caleb will no longer laugh. Tries not to think that one day, Caleb will be stone cold. She hopes it will not come to that. The war must surely end before then.

Somewhere far far away, she hears Grey's comms spark on but the Force is pulling her away. Her mind is wandering and-

Suddenly, abruptly, Depa can no longer breathe because the Force is _screaming,_ and she can see thousands upon thousands of lights flicker once before going out. Caleb must have sensed something was wrong for he takes her hand, and, with a tug, they are both lost in the horrifying flashes of white white armor shooting down starlight.

Instinct has her whirling and deflecting a blaster shot before she realizes it; the lightsaber fits in her hand too naturally this time. Her Padawan is still disorientated beside her and she takes no chances as she pushes him behind. He is still coming back to his senses so he cannot see but she does. She sees Grey signal and her men take aim again, mirror image of what she has just witnessed. She's shouting before she can stop herself.

"Why?! Why are you doing this?!"

Her men's face do not betray them as they say as one, "Good soldiers follow orders."

It's utterly _wrong_ as a chill runs down her spine. A chill that has nothing to do with the wind picking up and trilling through the tall tall trees, the wind glossing across the green gracious grass, or the wind blowing against the bubbling babbling brooks. These are her men. _Hers_. She knows them like she knows that stars will one day die.

But it matters not what she knows because what she knows right now is that her men are shooting at her and her Padawan.

Her Padawan who is trying his best to recover from the dark but is failing until she calls his name.

"Caleb!"

He finally finds himself and steps up next to her, deflecting blaster shots as effectively as she is. They stand back to back, dodging and defending and keeping each other safe and protected. But this cannot stand and she's sure Caleb sees this too when more of her men appear to their left and right, surrounding them.

There is a beat, two, where she sees a vision of Caleb with a Padawan of his own and it's what compels her to push him towards the outskirts of the clearing behind, towards the tall tall trees that provide shelter and shade mere moments before. Conflict blossoms on her young Padawan's face and Depa knows what he's thinking. He wants to stay. He wants to help. He wants to do so many things but leave her because his devotion to her and the Jedi is all he has, and he cannot abandon it. Not even now when their men are turning on them. But he must and she gives him another shove, slashing another bolt from the air.

"Go! I'll be right behind you!"

As Caleb finally turns his back on her, Depa finds her heart in her throat because he is so so young, so so sweet, and so so bright. And she finds herself wishing that he will always stay that way but she knows that cannot be when the Force is screaming and their men are shooting and she is lying.

She wishes she had more time to teach him that there are things worth dying for and that he is one of those precious things worth sacrificing for.

Maybe he knows what she's thinking for he doesn't look back but the Force… it ceases for a beat, two, and she feels concern, anger, and beneath it all, deep deep sadness from her Padawan.

"Don't look back," she yells, and Caleb runs. She deflects shot after shot, heart jolting at every single man she's injured, at every single man she's killed for the sake of that young young child who holds the future's hope. She needs to keep him safe. They cannot touch him.

She whirls, twirls, and shoves with the Force still screaming in her mind; her men fly several paces backwards and she ignores the way some fall and don't get up. Then, everything slows down as she sees Grey motion and Styles aim at something past her…

_Caleb_.

"Styles, _No_!" The Force bellows out to shove his blaster aside. His shot goes wide and she has a second of relief before another shot catches her in the back. She knows without seeing that it is Grey who fires this.

She falls.

The green gracious grass greets her as the pain grows; she knows it's bad when she can still hear the bubbling babbling brooks break through the chaos of blaster fire and shouts of her men.

Funny. She doesn't remember dying hurting this much. Then again, last time this happened, she hadn't been fighting people she trusted. She hadn't been fighting for a new hope. This is decidedly worse than last time.

Another shot hits her body and she's dimly aware of the tall tall trees providing refuge from the shining sun. She thinks she's dying when she continues to ache, when the Force continues to scream, and her men continue to shoot.

She thinks she's dying and in her last thought before darkness approaches, she prays that her Padawan is safe.

* * *

In the distance, the same Padawan hears a whisper that tells him to run and he pumps his legs faster.

* * *

AN:

\- I know in canon, she died as evident in Star Wars: Rebels, but if you haven't noticed, all the Jedi who were to die in Order 66 are alive in my stories. I wanted to emphasize on her story and the heartbreaking decisions she had to make.

\- Hope you enjoy! Reviews are much appreciated! :)


	8. Depa Billaba, Caleb Dunne, Grey: Part 2

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- Part 2 of 3

* * *

Of Caleb, flight, and a Home that is Eternal

* * *

He runs until he can't breathe, and then he runs some more because that's what he's been doing all his life ever since he was found and brought back to a place that was Home. But Home is no longer there as the Force rages and propels him forward.

They killed her.

Branches give way to stones and the not-path he's been running on becomes bumpy; his feet catch on something and Caleb slides his way down the grassy incline. He reaches out, grabs air, and continues his descent until he hits ground.

There is a wild wild moment where he considers just lying there and accepting that the Force is screaming, his men are shooting, and the Jedi are dying.

They killed her.

The Force is raging and crying, scattering him like the leaves littering the ground he's lying on. But he can still hears his Master's final order despite the chaos and that's why he pulls himself up, calling... His lightsaber had flown when he had fallen endlessly downwards and it flies to him in silence. The weapon fits too easily in his hand and the metal etches the handle's pattern into his skin. He doesn't feel the imprint of it and he should be concerned, but he can only feel the vast emptiness of the Force that echos, echos, echos, and doesn't stop.

He wants to stop though. To rest. But he cannot when he can _still_ hear his Master's voice even though she is dead and gone.

He has the sudden urge to slash against the tall tall trees until they are burning stumps but he resists. He has to be quiet and he runs in silence now, feet barely touching the ground. He thinks he's flying at this point as he continues his course to nowhere.

He has to be quiet.

He has to be quiet or they'll find him. He needs control, needs to contain himself, because he cannot afford to break apart now when the Force is also breaking around him. He cannot stay here where he can still smell the blaster fire, can still hear his men's voices, can still see the smoke on the horizon that can only mean the burning of a dead dead body.

They killed her.

He needs to get out of here. He cannot stay. He takes a beat to reorient himself. Then he's running again and this time, he doesn't stop until he's actually flying, curled up on the Starfighter's seat that is too high for his feet to touch the floor.

Space is quiet sans his own breathing and the Force's keening.

Caleb wonders if this is what it feels like to die.

He needs to do something. Anything. He fiddles with the Starfighter's comms and tries to ignore the darkness from outside space and inside himself. There is Chaos as every channel he switches to talks about the betrayal of the Jedi. The Jedi who are dying because someone had _lied_. Caleb resists the urge to smash the comms with his small shaking hands and switches to the Jedi frequency instead. Maybe, maybe, he is not alone. Maybe, others live.

The comm cuts in, a shining blue light forming into a familiar familiar figure.

"This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi," the holo says and even from eons away, Caleb can see Master Kenobi's sadness carved into every line on his body. "I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen."

Not just the Jedi are gone then. But the whole Republic that they have all been fighting for three long long years. Everything is ashes now as Caleb continues to watch the holo with reverence.

"With the shadow of the Empire rising to take their place, this message is a warning and a reminder to all surviving Jedi. Do _not_ return to the Temple." Master Kenobi pauses for a brief brief second and Caleb can see that the older is mourning with the passion of a thousand dying suns about the abandonment and ruins of Home. "The time has passed and our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret. Be strong. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere, and in time, I believe a new Hope will emerge."

A new Hope. Caleb cannot even imagine that that can be any Hope at all in this galaxy when all he sees is Darkness.

"May the Force be with you, always," Master Kenobi says in a weary voice and within one beat and the next, his glowing figure vanishes, plunging Caleb back into silence.

Gone. It's all gone. The Jedi. The Republic. All of it.

He's shattering in stardust and what can he do but reach into the Force, hoping, hoping, hoping… Something sparks back in the distance and Caleb looks out the window to see the stars slowly winking back into constellations he knows and loves. He had felt it when the Force had paused in its mourning. There had been a familiar presence, more familiar even than Master Kenobi, and as he wipes his tears away, he knows without a doubt that he is not alone.

They did not kill her after all. His Master yet lives.

And as his Starfighter hums its way into open space, Caleb can only wonder where he goes from here.

* * *

On another Starfighter far far away, Master Billaba's finger twitches, a ghost of a smile gracing her face.

* * *

\- One of the shorter chapters. Hope you enjoy~

_Review=Love_


	9. Depa Billaba, Caleb Dunne, Grey: Part 3

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- Part 3 of 3

* * *

Of Grey, his General's beauty, and her defiance to Death

* * *

This is a break that they all need and he's grateful that his General stops them in this clearing where all things beautiful seem to reside. The trees are taller, the grass is greener, and the sky is more brilliantly blue than he's ever seen in his short short life. As he watches Styles ruffle their Commander's hair, he thinks that this is what peace must feel like.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees his General keeping watch over them all,a serene smile on her face; the sun is shining right on her and something deep within Grey swells upwards. It's a warm feeling, a comforting one, and he doesn't need to see to know that General Billaba is utterly content in this very moment. He watches her close her eyes, face ever peaceful and loving as always when she is reaching into the Force.

If this is what he's going to be fighting for, then he hopes he'll fight forever to keep his General and Commander happy and safe. The kid walks over to General Billaba and Grey comes back to himself, giving them a private moment with the Force and each other.

He flips his comms on.

_Execute Order 66_.

Suddenly, there is no warmth. There is only cold as he reaches for his blaster; he had laid it beside a rock not so long ago and he grabs it now. His hands are not his own as they curl around the weapon like it always belonged.

Knowledge blooms to life in his mind, sudden and all consuming. He's about to kill his General and there's nothing he can do about it.

_Execute Order 66. _

His hands are steady and do not shake as he steps up with his brothers as one to encircle the two Jedi in. The two Jedi who have risked their own lives for the sake of others. Their General who had died once already because if there is anything she wishes for, it is that her death is worth something. Their General who had died once because she had thought and still thinks saving Grey and his brothers was the best way to go.

The General who came back because she had said to Death: _Not today_.

He's dimly aware of his brothers following suit, motions mechanical as one by one, they all step into place beside him. Their weapons are all raised, every movement sure, but Grey can see in every single of his brothers' shifting eyes that trying to stop themselves is a battle they're losing.

_Execute Order 66. _

Their Commander is stark still next to his Master. Their Commander who is a kid, who laughs with them, who fights with them, and who is their Light, seems to not see the danger he's in; Grey wonders if the kid sees anything at all as the younger stares into the distance, transfixed.

Grey and his brothers are going to kill him and it'll be the end of all things good as they know it.

He tries to tear his eyes away as he pulls the trigger, not wanting to witness the betrayal his own body is wringing, but his head does not follow his mind and he can only watch as the shot flies straight at his General-

His General who is suddenly swinging her lightsaber and sending that shot into the dirt. There is a wild wild moment where everything is green and gracious and gorgeous as the grass flies up and frames the General-

She is pleading and her shouts ring through the clearing. Grey is amazed that he can hear her words despite the chaos of the blaster fire from his side.

It hurts. It hurts that his General needs to protect herself from them and it especially hurts when Commander Dume continues to not move at her side. General Billaba's face is one of betrayal and confusion but her actions are swift and fierce as she continues to deflect shot after shot. She says something to her Padawan and he moves from being stone to water, stepping up next to his Master to defend themselves from the onslaught.

They are doing a remarkable job but their General can see what is to come because that's the person she is. He knows her. Knows her like he knows how Order 66 is tearing the galaxy apart one seam at a time. Grey continues his fire even as General Billaba shoves her Padawan behind her. He continues his fire even as she orders the child to run. He continues to fire even as he sees it all- his Commander's hesitation, his reluctance, and his General's grim determined expression.

"Go! I'll be right behind you!"

They all know she's lying as she slashes a bolt from the air, sending several of his brothers to the floor. She's good. But she isn't good enough to fight them all.

She can't.

His hand is lead against his weapon but Grey feels himself nodding to Styles who takes aim at something beyond the General. Grey doesn't have to look to see who the other is aiming at.

"Styles, _No_!," His General screams, arm out, and it is an unnatural thing to hear as something bellows out from her; Style's shot flies wide and blends into the blue sky.

In that same moment, Grey takes aim and shoots. He knows it connects when the coldness that had been seeping into his soul crawls deeper into his brain.

General Billaba goes down, a gasp on her lips. Her lightsaber lands gently on the grass beside her. It is this moment when she lays stone still that he feels something besides ice. Instead, there is fury frothing forward because how _dare_ something make him hurt the one person who had treated him as human and not a clone. In one second and the next, his blaster is on the floor next to the lightsaber as he drops next to his General.

The shooting ceases and its as if it's a new dawn as his brothers look at their hands and weapons for the first time in a long time. One by one, the sound of blasters hit the grass. There is absolute silence until a brother kneels beside Grey.

"Is… is she…?"

Grey doesn't hear the end of the question as he puts a trembling finger on the General's neck. He's dimly aware of her blood soaking into the grass below and knows that her robes are ruined. Everything is muted as he searches, searches, searches… and is rewarded with a faint pulse.

His General lives.

His brain catches up before his heart does and Grey finds himself barking out orders. "Big-Mouth, secure the perimeter. Soot, gather the troops. Styles, help me. Her legs-"

"What about Commander Dume," someone asks in the distance and it makes Grey pause as he shifts his hands away from his General.

"We can't," he responses, and if his voice cracks a little, nobody mentions it. "We can't go near him. Not like this."

His brothers' murmurs melt away into the background as he focuses back on his General, trying not to think of the youngling who brings contentment to his General, who brings sweetness to his brothers, and who brings happiness to them all. A dull ache beats anew in his chest and head, but the soldier pushes it down with a vengeance. Instead, he cradles his General's head as Styles staunches the bleeding and carefully helps to maneuver her onto her back. Grey pulls the remains of her bloody cloak around her, tucking her arms into her sleeves, and pulling the hood up over her head so that her face is now obscured.

He takes her lightsaber, clicks it shut, and hooks it to her belt where it belongs, before scooping his General up into his arms. The lightsaber sways gently as he gets up from the ground; Styles' steady hands are the only thing keeping Grey and their General afloat. Under their brothers' watchful gaze, the two of them get her to the gunship.

Grey takes a seat next to his General, one hand wrapped around her wrist to feel the slow but stable pulse that anchors him to the present.

In one moment and the next, all evidence that there were any troops is gone as, one by one, gunships lift into the air and are borne away by the wind. The only thing left is the blood that lights a story of tragedy among the beauty of Kaller.

As the gunships land onto the cruiser, Grey can only wonder where they go from here as his comm blossoms to life. He's being pulled in all directions but up as he reports to someone he's never seen before but knows he must to distract from the fact that Styles is discreetly unloading their General from the gunship to the medbay. He spends the rest of the debrief with his fists clenched tight and ignores his knuckles popping from the pressure.

When it's done, he stalks off the bridge, sureness in every step he takes even as his heart is wavering the closer he gets to the medbay. He wonders if this is what hoping is like; it's like he's drowning in lukewarm water and he's not sure if he's strong enough to crawl to the surface. But he must as his brothers flock and fall into step behind him. The halls outside the medbay are crowded. He should find a problem with this but right now, he can think of nothing but the still figure inside. His brothers who had fallen behind him go to stand in line with the others and Grey would find this action endearing if it weren't for the fact that they all have the same expression on their faces- equal parts horror and exhaustion line every crevice of their faces.

They say nothing but their eyes speak for them, and it is those eyes he feels on his back as the door to the medbay slides shut. He is alone with only his General and suddenly, abruptly, he realizes that this is the first time in a long time that it's just the two of them.

She floats in a bacta tank, her hair impossibly long, and it takes a moment for him to see that it's because her braids have come undone. He thinks she looks beautiful even if she is unconscious before he wishes he could just turn around and walk away because he's the reason she's in the tank in the first place.

She is here because of him and he feels the ache from before surge forward. He blinks and he no longer sees the winking stars outside the window, no longer feels the cold grey medbay floor, no longer hears the humming of the machines keeping his General alive. He only sees his General, beauty and grace and utterly dead, as she tumbles into the gracious green grass in Kaller and never moves again.

With a snarl, he grabs the biobed and hurls it away from him. It slams into the wall and onto the ground with a crash that shakes him back to the present. His breathing is harsh and his muscles are wound tight. He's not sure how long he stands frozen in the dark until a warm hand lands on his shoulder. He doesn't need to turn to know it's Styles. The callouses and steady warmth give him away. Grey also doesn't need to turn to know who else is in the room as Big-Mouth walks up to their General, his lips a thin thin line.

"You alright, Grey?" Soot asks softly. "We heard a crash."

Grey isn't aware he had stopped breathing until this moment; he releases a breath and closes his eyes. He's not okay. Not even close. But he must because without their General, without their Commander, he's the highest ranking officer here. His brothers are looking to him for answers he doesn't have. But he shows nothing as he opens his eyes.

"Fine," he says shortly. Then, there is nothing left to say as the four of them watch their General's hair swirl around her and try not to feel the weight on their shoulders chipping away at their souls. The four of them are their General's limbs and Grey thinks that this is the moment they all realize they are nothing without their Head. It's always been the four of them, the last ones of General Billaba's first battalion.

"Alright," Grey says at last. "Styles, you're with me. We're getting the General out of here. Have the droids start the evac."

Styles nods and leaves without a word.

"You're sure about this?" Soot asks. Big-Mouth does not move from his position in front of the tank but his concern and anger is still palpable even from this distance.

Grey can only answer with a grim thin smile. "No. But she can't stay here." What is left unspoken but understood is that he will not leave her either.

Big-Mouth finally turns, displeasure now a permanent marker on his face, and Soot shifts minutely, brow furrowing. "Where will you go?"

"Someplace warm, perhaps," Grey responds and tries not to think of his General in the cold cold tank. Tries not to think of the impossible scenario where she doesn't wake up.

"And what do you want us to do?"

"What she would want us to do." He knows he needs not say anything else. The four of them had already spent far too many dark long nights discussing the inevitable. By now, their thoughts are one and the same.

"We have to survive. We have to live until we see one another again. And when we do, we will find those responsible for this and we will make them _burn_."

Then, there is nothing but silence as Styles reenters with two medical droids. Grey blinks once, twice, loses count, and finds himself in the Starfighter with Styles, their General safely secured in the back. The Cruiser is a star in the distance as the Starfighter zooms forward into open space.

The ship is quiet. Grey is in no mood to talk and Styles has said nothing since Kaller and the Fall. The only sounds are the medical droids' occasional humming as they move from machine to machine. The two droids are the only ones in their battalion to escape with their memories intact; all the others had had their minds wiped.

No one can know she lives.

Next to Grey, Styles stares straight ahead and does not move. The only sign of his brother's emotions is the white white knuckles around the controllers and Grey wonders at how terrible the galaxy has to be to make his stoic brother paralyzed. Wonders at how they can protect their General and keep her safe when the galaxy is being shrouded in darkness right now.

He moves for the first time in a long time from his seat and towards the back where his General floats; Styles continues his watch over their journey and Grey appreciates the silent strength the other invokes. Grey takes a seat in front of his General, back straight, legs crossed, just the way he had seen her sit not so long ago on another planet far far away. His hands rest on his knees, palm up. He breathes.

In. Out. In. Out.

One beat, then two, passes where Grey tries not to think about long swirling hair and a calm soothing smile. Instead, he prays to any and all deities that they hear his silent prayers. He thinks of a new hope as he feels a presence that tugs at his soul, something soft and gentle and oh so familiar...

He surfaces from the deep to meet Styles' questioning eyes and smiles. "I think everything's going to be okay."

* * *

Lightyears away on another Starfighter, their small young Commander thinks he hears something in the Force and smiles, coming to the same conclusion.

* * *

_A/N_

Guess who's back? It's me. I've been away trying to figure out my life and the answer is no, I still have not figured it out yet. But I'm been trying to slowly getting back into writing so here you go~

Hope you enjoy :)

_Reviews= Love_


	10. Gree & Yoda: Part 1

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- Part 1 of 2

* * *

Of Gree, of green, and of parallels.

* * *

There are far worse places to be than Kashyyk. At least that's what Gree tells himself when he has not felt the sun in what feels like eons. Vast trees litter the planet and shelter its inhabitants from the sun's rays, but he has to wonder at what cost when he finds himself trudging through rain and mud, his brothers at his side.

General Yoda walks in the middle of their formation, so small and utterly otherworldly among their white white armour; Gree often finds himself wondering just how different serving under General Yoda is compared to serving with General Unduli. General Unduli had been their mother, their sister, their calm in the storm- she had been everything that his brothers and he had needed in this war. But General Yoda is different and it isn't until Gree finds himself standing behind the other that he realizes why.

He and Scout are keeping watch at the Command Center. The Wookies and the other troops are below on the ground, working on their defenses against the Separatists, because not even the neutral are safe in this never ending war. This is the first time in a long time he's worked with General Yoda and it shows as Gree stumbles along at every turn, much to the General's amusement.

It would be an understatement to say he is nervous when General Yoda is around. After all, General Unduli is straightforward, fights with sharp angles and quick turns, and smiles when she thinks nobody is watching. Gree sees though and he's sure he's not the only one as in his brother's private circles, they can count off on one hand the amount of times they've seen something akin to happiness on their General's face.

But Yoda… Yoda is strange with his riddles, his backwards speech, and his kind sad frown that can turn into a smile at a moment's notice.

Unduli treats Gree and his brothers like wayward children in a distant but caring manner. Yoda, however, does not treat them like soldiers or children or even clones. Instead, ever since he had been under Yoda's rule, Gree finds in himself some gleeful childish joy when he is able to answer Yoda's questions properly. He thinks this is what it must feel like to be a student and to have a competent teacher.

Yoda shifts in front of him and it pulls Gree back to the present. In the distance, he can hear sounds of battle; explosions are muffled among the trunks of the trees, and shots ring through the leaves and branches, echoing back to the command center like jagged shattering glass. Gree discreetly cracks his knuckles behind the General and hopes Yoda doesn't hear; after all, he is made for action, not for stillness.

He wonders if the General feels the same as Yoda hums and taps his cane on the floor.

If Scout feels as restless as Gree does, he says nothing; he only moves his binoculars here and there, quietly pointing things out to Yoda, who nods along. He's a good brother with a gift for spotting things others overlook, and Gree is pleased to have him at his side as he moves away from the duo towards the shadier part of the Command Center. Gree thinks if this battle goes well, he'll talk to both Generals about offering Scout a promotion.

His comm goes off, cutting through his thoughts like a black ship sliding into harbor. He blinks and holds out his palm, a small blue holo appearing and-

And-

_Execute Order 66._

And Gree is suddenly misplaced. He finds himself responding to the holo before it blinks out. He has no time to think, no time to reflect, no time to _feel_ before he finds himself walking back into the command station.

Knowledge slowly makes itself clear in the way of plans springing forth in his brain as if he's known this Order all his life. This Order that is a Contingency and only meant to be invoked if the Republic is in danger. In danger because of the Jedi.

The very same Jedi who have been the one shining Hope of them clawing their way out of this bloody ceaseless war.

_Execute Order 66_.

Gree's steps are as sure as the sun's setting path and he wonders at how his body can hold him up when his heart is shaking and his soul is screaming. His pace never falters, his stride never changes, as every step brings him closer and closer to the Jedi General who has seen more planets fall and rise than any other being he knows.

His blaster is heavy in his hands as he comes to a stop next to Scout. His brother acknowledges his presence with a slight tilt of his head and Gree dimly realizes that he hates the way their helmets shield and chain them both. He cannot see the other's eyes, cannot see his expression, but he does not need to see to feel his brother's rising terror that they cannot control their actions; they aim at their General's small small back in unison and-

_Execute Order 66_.

The General is suddenly not there as he moves, his small form tucking and rolling away from the shot that would have pierced his heart. There is a flash of green; Gree hears the familiar hiss and feels the familiar burn of a lightsaber before he is flung backwards. Far far away, he thinks he hears Scout's agonized scream of pain but it is cut short as Gree slams into the railing of the Command Center- the same Command Center that his brothers had built and fortified with their own two hands.

He has a second to breathe before something lands in front of him. Gree blinks darkness from his vision and half succeeds as he opens his eyes to so much green. A fuzzy Yoda looks back at him and even in his disoriented state, Gree can see sorrow etched into every furrow on the General's forehead. It hurts that he's one of the reasons why the Jedi looks oh so sad.

Then his world goes black and Gree's last thought before everything fades away is that there are certainly worse places to die on than on Kashyyk.

* * *

On the same planet far far away, Master Luminara Unduli looks up and hears a whisper before she disappears further into the green, leaving behind her troops, knocked out and laid gently on the forest floor.

* * *

**A/N**

Because I'm excited that I'm writing again, here is another chapter :) This time, it's focusing on Gree and the interaction and musings on Master Yoda.

Hope you enjoy~

_Reviews = Love_


	11. Gree & Yoda: Part 2

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

\- Part 2 of 2

* * *

Of Yoda, Luminous Beings, and Crude Matter.

* * *

It comes neither slow nor silent. Instead, the Force had flooded into him, fury and fright all at once. Yoda is dimly aware of his cane faltering in its step as he staggers; lights twinkle in the distance before going ominously dark.

Jedi. All these deaths are Jedi. And there is nothing he can do to stop the slaughter as something echoes far far away and he wonders if it's his heart and soul tearing apart. Chaos surrounds him as the sound of battle punctures through the Force; Yoda comes back to himself just as something shifts behind him.

Something is wrong as that something becomes someone, and then two someones, as Commander Gree approaches from behind, footsteps barely audible beneath all the crashing and burning of dying stars. Scout has already become inconspicuously silent and the only sound now is Yoda's cane finally thumping down onto the floor after its initial miss.

The two clones' Force signatures waver and splinter behind him and there is a whisper of metal against metal as the Force explodes. Little pieces assault Yoda all at once and it's like he's seeing things anew between the seams of space and time. Like the way Gree never falters even as his signature is laced with desperation. Like the way Scout nods in rote even as his signature is bellowing with panic. Like the way thousands upon thousands of voices are being silenced as their signatures scream and blink out of existence.

Something explodes in the distance and Yoda is dimly aware that a battle is still happening beyond his peripheral vision but he can't focus on that; Gree's emotions are flowing off him in waves so great that it's threatening to drown them all in ashes. Yoda feels more than hears the Commander still for a beat, fear lighting the clone up from the inside out. Then, there is nothing but stillness as Gree and Scout pull the trigger and Yoda moves.

The Force is still whirling and it takes no effort for the Jedi Master to direct it towards the two clones. Gree flies backwards and cracks against the rails of the treehouse that Yoda had seen him look at so lovingly as a temporary Home. But it is Home no longer for any of them as Scout screams- his blaster's battery pack had exploded, leaving his hands and arms scorched.

Yoda lands in front of Gree and he can still feel the horror and despair flowing off the Commander the same way the Force had flooded just moments earlier. There is something dark clouding his signature but as the Commander blinks weary, sad, angry eyes up at him, there is also a hint of something akin to Hope tingling the edges of his signature.

Relief…

But for what?

Somewhere on the edge of chaos, the Wookies are urging him to flee as one turns to him, shoulder and back bare; Chewbacca's intentions are clear and it's the one thing that pulls Yoda from the deep as the Wookie bends just slightly for the Jedi to clamber on.

Yet, even with his back turned, the Jedi can still feel the simmering anger and the feather like touch of Hope lying in a tangled mess behind him. One is dimmer than the other as Scout stirs in the background, hands a fiery red and arms a sooty black. The brighter signature is slowly fading as the Commander fights for consciousness but sleep calls him… and even the strongest needs rest.

Yoda feels more than sees both soldiers succumb to the deep and knows that something has broken. Not just here, but everywhere as the Force continues to whirlwind around him with the sounds of thousands upon thousands of stars collapsing in on themselves.

Then, he feels nothing but air as Chewbacca jumps. They don't touch the ground for a long long time. He holds on and tries to ignore the cries and the silence that follows that echoes in the Force. Tries to ignore the bone weary sadness etching itself into his body. Tries to ignore the way the galaxy sudden seems too dark for a universe teeming with starlight.

His cane lies forgotten on the treehouse floor, once more amongst its wooden brothers.

The Fall has only just begun.

* * *

Far far away in the darkness of a room, a single tear falls from former Padawan Offee's eyes.

* * *

**_A/N:_**

A super short one for now from Yoda's POV. I tried really hard to write Yoda the justice he deserves but I'm unsure how it ultimately came out. But I'm putting it out there anyways so I hope y'all enjoy :)

_Reviews = Love_


	12. Aero & Shaak Ti

**Reminder: Please kindly note** that this is a remix of **angelrider13**'s fic titled: Resist Order 66. This has been written with her permission and blessing.

* * *

Of Aero, a Home that is no longer a Home, and a longing for a Mother's embrace

* * *

Kamino is the only place Aero has ever known. And Kamino will always be the only place Aero will ever know as far as he is concerned. Why would he ever leave when he can marvel at the silent movement of the waves below and the raindrops on the windows that look like tears slowly sliding into oblivion. He doesn't want to leave this place that is all he has ever known since he opened his eyes to the blinding white walls and the blinding white lights.

The same walls he's currently staring at and the same lights he's currently sitting under as he tries not to think about what happens beyond Kamino and the pristine whiteness of Home. And because this is Home like he's always known, when it happens, he is utterly unprepared as something inside him breathes icy coldness into his veins; the others around him, his brothers and fellow cadets who were talking and joking mere seconds ago, abruptly still their movements and don't move a muscle. Yet, he can tell in the way some jaws are set and how some others' hands slowly curl into fists that he's not the only one being violated in such a way.

After all, Home is Home and nobody has ever taught any of them anything beyond what they needed to know but knowledge is blooming to life in his mind, sudden and all consuming.

_Execute Order 66_.

This is an order he's never known but is also something that he's known ever since he opened his eyes and stepped out from the coldness of the tank to the warmth of the heated floor and the quiet murmurs of the Kaminoans. The same Kaminoans who are now nowhere to be seen as Aero and his brothers nod at one another, already rising from their classroom seats as if they've been waiting for this moment all their lives.

Perhaps they have as Aero fights to breathe.

_Execute Order 66_.

As one, they step outside of their classroom to see all their brothers, both young and old, moving in the same mechanical movement. They are all on the prowl and as Aero's feet fall in line with the others in some sort of search formation, he finds himself searching in his brothers' eyes for some kind of sign. Anything that would explain why something inside of him is clawing in the pit of his stomach and fighting for control to finish what the order started.

And the order is clear.

All Jedi must die.

And there is only one Jedi on Kamino.

Shaak Ti.

_Execute Order 66._

The Jedi who walks with grace and smiles with kindness. Whose lips drips knowledge and whose movements are intertwined with deliberate wisdom. Who meditates as the clouds gather across the waters and who listens when the rain pour from the sky.

The same Jedi who found him with red eyes and bloody hands after his first training exercise. Who sat next to him and bandaged his wounds wordlessly. Who continued to sit with him until he evened his breathing and dried his tears.

He's running before he knows it and he's no longer certain if it's the ice in him propelling him forward or the fire burning in his chest that's wrestling its way out of his heart. He can only think of General Shaak Ti and how his brothers are going to drown themselves in sorrow when they finally catch her and do what the command had ordered them to do. He may only be a cadet but he's still a soldier in the making. He knows what must be done.

From the edge of his vision, he can see his brothers flow in and out of his peripheral, their every movement stiff- but their eyes tell a different story and it is those eyes that makes him pump his legs faster until air is hard to breathe. His brothers, who he knows as surely as he knows himself, are hurting and he can do nothing but run to where his General is because he will not let his General die, betrayed by those who revere her as surely as stars shine.

Aero knows he's alone in this section of the building as his footsteps have been the only sound for a while. His brothers had all split up, something in them propelling them to find the one true thing that they had ever known to tear it up, and they had all gone their separate ways, each wishing the other luck.

Luck to catch the General is what they say. Luck to not catch the General is what each and every identical eyes plead to the other.

Aero turns a corner, then another, feeling cold and hot all at once as he finally rounds another turn and comes across the General on bent knees, holding the wall for support. He comes to a full stop because this is just wrong. The General is always calm, always serene, always undisturbed even in the middle of combat. But now… now…

Her expression is a mix of equal parts pain, agony, and sadness. It captivates him and he doesn't know what to do except gasp for breath at the General falling apart in front of his eyes. She is staring beyond him but he can tell she is slowly sliding back to focus as she regains enough strength to claw her way back upright.

There is a beat, two, before the General finally _finally_ stands up straight and looks him in the eyes. Her gaze burns him from the inside out and this is the moment where he thinks this is what it must feel like to watch a star burn bright only to die. He thinks to say something, anything, to rid her of all her worries and troubles but there is nothing he can say to fix anything as footsteps grow louder and louder towards the both of them.

In one breath and the next, three brothers round the same corner Aero had turned mere moments ago (lightyears ago?) and before they can react, one is already down, his arm at a crooked angle, knocked out cold. The second pulls back but it's too late as the General slams her elbow into his throat, silencing his yell for help, and gently helps his unconscious body onto the floor as well.

In the silence that follows, nobody moves as Aero is frozen in place because he wants to help but he's no longer sure who to aid. Matchstick, on the other hand, stands still in a fighting position. The General's fingers twitching is the only sign she moves at all for her lightsaber is in her hands as if it had been there all along. Outside the window, the waters continue to roar their fury and the rain starts to form teardrops on the dome glass.

The General ignites her lightsaber so that she looks like an Angel among all the white and green.

"When?" she says, voice devoid of all that is good in the universe. "When did this start?"

Aeros blinks because it's the closest to "When did this order come to existence" as she can get and he doesn't know how to respond as Matchstick breaks the stillness by throwing himself at the General; his right hook meets air before he is blown back by the Force and onto the floor next to Aero, who knows that Matchstick has only ever lost a handful of spars and prefers his left over his right side.

Then the General turns to him and Aero finds himself alone once more in a Home that is no longer Home. General Ti walks to him, lightsaber no longer lit, and he resists the urge to back away until she is towering over him, beauty and sadness all wrapped on her face.

"Aero," she calls and he looks up. "What is going on?"

He thinks now that knowing is no different from not knowing so he tells her in halting whispers about cruel commands that crawl inside the clones to make them destroy starlight. She listens and listens and _listens_ even though he knows she wants to not hear about the destruction of everything she's ever loved. And when he is finished, the rain outside has become a torrent.

"And why," she asks when he has no more words to say, "are you not affected?"

"I am," he admits in a murmur as the ice threatens to exact revenge on his body. "But you can't die." _Not here. Not now._

The General blinks and tilts her head slightly so that her lekku sways a bit. "I do not fear Death, little one."

Aero's smiles thinly and this is the moment he thinks he becomes a soldier. "Yes, but you don't deserve this." He gestures to his three brothers who could have died because the General is their General, but she is also a Jedi who could care less about the clones she had been sent to watch over. Yet, she had not killed them and instead, ensured they lived with minimal blows and temporary injuries that will heal through time.

He grabs the hand not holding the lightsaber and tugs. "We need to get you out of here."

General Ti follows wordlessly, her hand in his, a warm presence that anchors him to the present. She's shaking slightly or maybe it's him; he's no longer sure who is trembling anymore and does not desire to know as he pulls her away from the limp bodies on the floor. They stick to the shadows, moving as one, further away from everything Aero has ever known until they reach the hangar where they stop.

"That's your ride." He points to a standard fighter, pristine and unmarred among the chaos. There is a beat, two, where he wishes their hands would remain intertwined but he lets go first because General Ti needs to live and staying any longer is putting her in danger.

General Ti turns away and Aero flexes his fingers, missing the imprint of her hands. He can't help it. She's his General. She's everything he's ever known. And she's leaving.

His eyes burn and his throat tightens but before he can turn away, General Ti is in front of him, hands on either side of his face, holding him in place.

"Aero," she says calmly, gently.

"Sorry," he chokes out, trying to move away but her grip is too firm for him to break. "I-" He pauses because how can he explain that she's his General and a mother all at once. "I-"

She smiles an almost smile and lets go. "I know, Aero. Breathe."

He sucks in a sharp breath, releasing it slowly. Then, does it a second time. A third. Slowly, the ice in his brain slides back but he still feels numb as he looks up to his General only to find her outstretched palm.

"Come," she says and in the background, the starfighter opens itself up to reveal it to be a double. It's a command, an order, not unlike the same ones that had caused his brothers and him to fight against something unknown within themselves but… but… this is his General so Aero does not hesitate to take her offered hand.

He climbs into the back and straps in. As the engines hum and some brothers finally trickle into the hangar as if they had waited until the General and him were secured before appearing, all he can hear is Shaak Ti's voice.

"Close your eyes," she instructs as the starfighter begins its ascent. "Focus inward. Find your center."

He can't, not right now when he is floating above the ruins of Home and finally hears the roaring waters he's never been able to hear inside the glass dome.

"Forget the outside world," she says and Aero's eyes slide from the rain dropping against the cockpit. "Forget the things that hold you down. Let them go."

The General seems to be talking more to herself than to him but he follows her as they breathe in unison. As he sinks into himself, her voice is calm and steady, the center of a storm.

"Let it wash over you, Aero. It cannot control you if you do not let it."

She's right. The ice is receding as he breathes. This is his mind. His body. His world even as his Home seems to crumble to ashes in his rearview.

"Breathe."

He does, opens his eyes, and lets go.

* * *

Somewhere far far below on Kamino, Matchstick opens his eyes and tries not to cry tears of happiness that his General made it out alive.

* * *

**A/N:**

\- I hope everyone is staying safe in this time of crisis with the whole COVID-19 situation. I actually wrote this chapter a while ago but never had to time to publish it due to the whole fiasco right now. I've been more busy with work but I'm going to try my best to write more chapters for this!

\- TBH, Shaak Ti is one of my favorite Jedi. She's just gorgeous and wise and beautiful.

\- Reviews= Love


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